Lindsey made himself at home next door where Elizabeth and her cat, Pilikia, had to put up with his antics. He would walk into their house unannounced, send Pilikia running for cover, and then casually sit down in front of her food dish and help himself. Allegedly he was also known to claw at Elizabeth's bedroom screen at 3 a.m. asking to be let in through the window. I don't doubt it. He had an attitude, and we all indulged him, despite those sometimes less than reasonable demands.
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| During the year before he finally disappeared, I started worrying about Lindsey's health. He just seemed at little "down". Visits to the vet were inconclusive, never really pinpointing a satisfactory explanation. At one point, when he lost his appetite, a blood test showed some kind of liver problem and I had to mix medicine in his food for several weeks. Other blood tests, though, failed to confirm. This was worrying, though, because Kolo had died of an acute and sudden liver failure, and we lost Ms. Hiwahiwa in 2001 after a two year battle with a chronic liver malady. |
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Lindsey had few qualms about demanding attention when needed, and one day in early September he appeared in my bathroom in the morning, stood on the counter, and demanded attention. I responded, and we shared a long interaction. He loved to have his forehead kissed while being rubbed, and on this morning he insisted on more than usual. It was, looking back, the long goodbye, as he later strolled up the driveway, tail high and, as usual, curled at the tip, disappearing out of view for the last time. Gracefully, as always.
We're left with many photographs, lots of memories, and more than a few regrets. I suppose that it's often that way in life, as it is regarding Lindsey.
--Ian Lind, September 2005
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